


To You, A Year Ago or a Minute from Now

by bigasstrees



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angsty Schmoop, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Mental Health Issues, New Year's Eve, Reincarnation, Schmoop, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, This is so not my usual fare, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 21:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigasstrees/pseuds/bigasstrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a new year and hope is hard to find for some.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To You, A Year Ago or a Minute from Now

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, well, this is my first published work for SNK and honestly, I wanted to start out with a canon-verse fic but hey, it's New Year's! I couldn't think of a better time to come out with something new. Basically, this is really out of synch with what I normally do (angst, gore, smut, more angst and smut) but something in me was dying to write this schmoopy-ass fluffy bunny New Year's story. 
> 
> This is dedicated to [rivai-lution](http://archiveofourown.org/users/stethoscopesandsigs/pseuds/rivai-lution), the author of the amazing fic [Gilded by Night](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1079659/chapters/2169746), same tumblr user name. They are my partner in life, both the wonderful and terrible times and manage to make the terrible manageable just by being there. Life is an exciting state to be in with them, always. I look forward to this year and all the years to come. By the time next year rolls around, we'll be husbands. Thank you for everything you are. Happy five years. 
> 
> This is also dedicated to anyone else who's having trouble with the start of a new year. It's not always a happy thing. Change is scary. Time marches on. But there are always possibilities and there is the possibility for things to get better and wounds to heal in their own ways.
> 
> Happy New Year.

 

**December 31, 2013 - 11:40 PM **

 

“...trying to ring in the New Years with a baby-face but honestly, he just ended up looking like Father Time.”

“Joan! Joan, that’s just _awful!_ Oh my god...”

The news anchor pretended to guiltiness as she covered her glossed lips with a leather-clad hand, white smile winking over her fingertips as Joan Rivers pulled her feline features into a visage of pitying disapproval on the monitors above the solid wall of faces. 

Levi ran his dry tongue over his teeth, his eyelids hooded heavily, face numb with the chill in the air. It was biting, actually, it felt like it could cut, literally fucking cut, but people pretended to enjoy it. They called it... what was that word he hated...? Brisk. What they really meant was that they were freezing their balls off and it sucked, but what they said was ‘brisk’, like it was some kind of goddamn delicacy. Tonight, though, he didn’t mind the sharp edges. 

He blinked slowly and he tried to discern whether he was smiling or not, gaze dropping, trying the tension around his lips, absently pressing his naked fingertips to his nose to see if his nostrils were flared... 

It was useless, every time he became self-aware, he started faking it, either way. Frown or smile. Maybe he didn’t feel anything at all, maybe he was empty, after all. 

Everything was hazy, bright and bleary, like some soft-focus 80’s Christmas special, but he felt like he was standing on the edge of a precipice. Standing on the threshold of his childhood home and looking down at a bottomless drop into pure blackness, which pulled at his stomach like a magnet. That was the image he had trouble banishing and a hand went up to rest at his middle, fingers rigid and tingling against the zipper of his coat. He stared forward blindly, forgetting himself until he caught the eyes of a young girl and was startled out of the loop he found himself in more often than not these past few weeks. 

**************

December was a difficult month for him. His therapist initially suggested Seasonal Affective Disorder, but admitted after knowing him two years that it was likely a cycle of Bipolar Disorder, which Levi always found confusing as fuck because if it coincided with the seasons sometimes, shouldn’t they rename Seasonal Affective Disorder? 

But he always kept his ideas to himself and just clamped his fingers on his leg tightly as he crossed it over his knee, as if holding a knot fast and looked down. 

“So, I’m crazy.” 

“It’s not an official diagnosis, Levi. I want to send you for some testing, if that’s okay, I think that some things can be talked through effectively. Trust me, I think you made the right decision in coming to therapy,” she said meaningfully, clasping her fingers together. 

Levi glanced over. _Bond_ , he thought. _You’re trying to bind me. Bond with me. You are drawing attention to this bond, you want me to be trapped. You don’t want me to leave, you don’t want me to get better. I don’t want your love, I don’t need a mother. I can’t afford this._

He looked up at her again and tuned back in as she finished, “-some things require chemical intervention to help ensure there’s enough of this at the right time... balance. Just to give you a little peace. Like I said, this is _not_ to change who you are.”

Levi’s usually smooth brow wrinkled. If he was bipolar, that’s what he was, wasn’t it? Life wouldn’t be the same. He was just moody, unfriendly, a natural loner, sex-obsessed and also strangely spiteful about it, a pervert, cold-blooded, manipulative... and, even though his therapist refused to acknowledge it, a bad person. He was probably one of the most evil presences the world had not yet known and he was waiting for that push, that event that would break his steely will to remain...just neutral. He wasn’t even trying to be a good person, he was just trying to act humane.

“I don’t... think I want to go on medication.”

“Why?”

“I just... I don’t fucking want to be a zombie,” he muttered, almost grimacing. He hated saying no to her. 

“What if I asked you to try it for a few weeks? I know it’s been difficult with your parents. Sometimes people just need the extra help, just for a little bit,” she explained to him like she was coaxing a child and fuck, he _wanted_ to listen to her, but he felt something between them now that she was asking him to go here.

They’d gone away this year for the holidays again after telling him that they were busy for the last five years around Christmas and New Years. Ever since he was eighteen, they never seemed to have the time for him anymore and he knew it was because of his ‘moods’. He didn’t blame them, every time they got together was like trying to avoid an impending nuclear meltdown. Thanksgiving was alright because it the extended family was a buffer and of course, it would be too hard to explain his absence. 

“... I really don’t want to.”

“You have no idea what it’ll do, though. You could get relief.”

He couldn’t move his mouth anymore and he sat stock-still, frozen with the anger that was surging up at the way she was goading him and wondered if she thought she could do this because he was insane or something.

“We can talk about this next time,” she relented, her tone even as ever.

There wasn’t a next time.

He stopped seeing her and a couple of weeks before Christmas, it was the ninth of December, he felt that familiar gnawing again. It started as a thought, a very simple one in the back of his mind and it was seductive. 

_Don’t be afraid._

Levi was on his side in bed, staring at his bedside table and wondering who would find him, when they would. He wasn’t going to. He really wasn’t going to try anything stupid because he didn’t want to die.

But come to think of it, why not? 

When the restlessness reached the pit of his stomach, he was on his feet and wandering into the kitchen, his eyes shifting from the fridge to the utensils drawer. He took a swig of milk and eyed the cheese before he realized it wasn’t food that he wanted. He wanted to do something meaningful, he wanted to take a step in the right direction. 

He cut deeply down his left wrist halfway to his elbow before his hand shook too badly to continue, due to choking back body-wracking sobs. He dropped the knife with a hiss and scrubbed away the tears from his cheeks punishingly with the back of his clean arm; the stinging, throbbing radiating from the wound commandeering every one of his senses. Levi despised crying, the mere thought of it made him cringe, but the pressure he had to apply to break the skin, the sheer violence behind the act... he hadn’t even noticed the wetness on his face until he’d been forced to pause. 

The mess. He almost panicked, it wasn’t right, he could see the inside of his arm, blood-red like meat at the butcher’s. 

_Jesus Christ, fucking disgusting._

He knew that if he didn’t act now, he’d lose his nerve. Valium, (which he swiped from his mom’s medicine cabinet at a critical point during their ill-fated Thanksgiving dinner), would do the trick. A spotted trail of blood marked his path from the tile of the kitchen to the floor of his bedroom and Levi hated the mess, hated himself for letting it go... but it was the last vestige of the tight grip he’d tried to keep on this world, his place, his reality and it was an important bit of symbolism. Giving himself peace and all, he though somewhat sarcastically, echoing his therapist’s words. He got the Valium and took forty milligrams, tossing it under his tongue and sitting down heavily on his bed, waiting for it to kick in as he dangled his arm over the edge of the mattress, the thought of soaking in his own blood making his stomach turn. 

Just as his eyes started to droop and that metallic, benzo-tang filled his mouth, his phone rang. “Shit,” he muttered. “Shit, shit, shit.” 

He was high as a kite and slid to his feet, almost slipped on the wet hardwood as he righted himself and looked for the source of the sound. “Ew... ugh, gross...” He hissed through gritted teeth as he saw his Nokia blinking away, on the darkness of his Ikea desk. Talking to himself had become a habit that helped a little, it helped him organize his thoughts, which felt like a swarm of bees sometimes. 

It stopped ringing. He sighed deeply and leaned on the chair, head swimming, full. He had to finish. The phone rang again. He considered tossing it to the floor, but thought it was a waste, someone else could use it. It was in pretty good condition. 

‘Zoe Hanji’ it said. 

Right. That weirdo that worked the same shift as him. 

He, she... ‘they’ (Hanji had requested cheerfully that their coworkers use this pronoun and Levi still couldn’t figure out what the fuck they had in their pants, not that he really wanted to know)... always did this, ‘this’ being calling him up and inviting him out for drinks despite the fact that he said no every time. He assumed they felt sorry for him and thought he needed their help. He didn’t. 

Anyway, he was tired of it and he was dying tonight, so he figured it was a good time to take a stand. What did he care if everyone knew what an asshole he was now? 

It was a good time to show them, he thought, stumbling as he reached for the phone and catching his hip on the corner of the desk as he caught himself and the world swayed. He felt nauseous and slid down with his back against the cabinets, the handles scraping against his spine as he settled there. A voice, a bit too loud, came over the receiver. 

“Levi! Levi, hey, you there?”

“Ye-yeah.” He laughed and he wasn’t sure why, this was all just suddenly very amusing to him. The smile twisted as it formed, though and he teared up, choking the sound that rose from his throat, almost a cornered, animal groan with the sleeve of the wrist that wasn’t bleeding steadily. 

“Hey, woah... you start without me? Y’know, I always invite you out, maybe you should take me up on it instead of drinking alone. Or invite me over, I like free drinks...” They hinted in a sing-song. 

“Because,” he slurred, losing control of his mouth. “I’m an asshole. I’m a bad person.” 

“No, you’re drunk,” they corrected him. “And you won’t drink with me. If you don’t want to be friends, it’s okay, I just figured that-”

“I needed them because I’m fucking pathetic, right?” He barked back, suddenly enraged. What the fuck? What made this freak better than him? What gave them the fucking right-

“No. I just...” Zoe seemed at a loss for the first time. “Thought maybe you were someone I’d like to know. You seem cool.”

Levi was floored, ashamed and he paused, the Valium completely dissolved, his mouth so dry that he couldn’t swallow and just managed to drool a little, too slack in the muscles to care about wiping it up. 

“S...sorry. Sorry, Zoe.”

He felt exhausted and he had to get to the kitchen, still. Rolling to his knees, he grunted as he pushed himself up to his feet, using the desk as leverage. He could really use a nap, which was great, he couldn’t usually take naps. Maybe his therapist was right, drugs really were the answer. 

“Woah, did I, uh, interrupt you?” Zoe sounded suspicious now. “Levi...” they whispered, sounding scandalized. “Are you taking a shit?”

“No.” The next part just spilled out and he regretted it as soon as it left his mouth, but he was in a suddenly talkative mood and felt like he was trying to keep water from slipping between his fingers, it was a losing battle. “I’m gonna die.”

“What? Ha, you really must be-”

“I’m serious, I’m drugged the fuck up and I’m cutting my wrists.” 

“Levi... are you...? Oh my god. Don’t- stay on the line. You idiot, why the fuck didn’t you call me?”

“Because we’re not friends. Because I don’t wanna go to the hospital...”

“Okay, I can’t understand you, you’re slurring. Stay on with me, though, I’m calling the... yes? Hello? My friend’s attempting suicide.”

Zoe was clearly on the line with another person. “Levi? Levi?! What’s your address?” 

He was in the kitchen and decided to rest against the refrigerator and before he knew it, he was sitting at the base of it. His lips were chapped and pale and his chest felt heavy, everything felt like it weighed a ton. His arm hurt like a fucking bitch but he didn’t care how much it hurt, he knew it would hurt to die. It should.

But he murmured the address of his apartment to Zoe anyway because he realized that he didn’t want to die. Something else was making this decision for him, something that wasn’t entirely under his control, nor was it actually him. It dressed like him, talked like him, looked like him, but it made some really shitty decisions and it was trying to kill him. He felt suddenly defiant and actually spoke with Zoe and applied pressure to the wound with a dishtowel the entirety of the twenty minutes it took for the ambulance to arrive. 

The first time he remembered in vivid detail again was a few days into his hold at the mental hospital. It was a mandatory hold, of course and he’d been, by all accounts, virtually silent since he arrived, too dosed up to feel and content enough with the break it gave him, apparently. It felt comforting, in a way, not to have to make that decision, to have it made on his behalf. It felt less like willful surrendering and more like an event, something that happened rather than something he allowed. 

He remembered sitting in group therapy, rubbing the bandage on his wrist, feeling sleepy and more ravenous than he had in a while. All he wanted was some French toast, eggs, cereal and more sleep. All he could think about was food, pissing and sleeping. Then he was called on. “Levi, what are your goals in preparing for your release?” The therapist smiled at him and clasped his hands in a way that annoyed the hell out of him, probably because he suspected they were taught to do it in grad school. They all did it that way.

Shrugging, he looked off to the left, his ‘avoiding space’ his therapist called it. “Go back to work. Take more showers. Not kill myself.”

The therapist shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “And do you find that to be a difficult accomplishment? That worries me a little, I have to say...”

“No. Look, I’d live forever if I never had to spend another day in this goddamn place. You can rest easy.”

A smile pulled at the corners of the other man’s mouth as the rest of the patients in the room looked at the floor thoughtfully. “Actually, I will, now. Any reason is a good one.”

Well, no better reason than that, right? This place wasn’t Hell. It wasn’t Heaven. It was purgatory, it was mandatory therapy sessions, it was a cage. Another cage built around him after a bid for freedom. He shouldn’t think of it that way... not because his therapist hadn’t been right, it would ensure he would never return to the facility. 

But because he wouldn’t make _that_ mistake again, instead of other, more fundamental ones. Levi didn’t even want to consider what he was thinking, instead, opting to swallow another dose of his lithium, even though it was making him eat like he was training for a marathon. 

To think he’d asked for seconds in that place, where pouring canned gravy over cardboard would have been kinder than calling that quivering, mechanically-separated mass, ‘turkey’. The vegetarian option wasn’t much better... calcium-enriched green beans, still slimily coated from the juice they were kept in. He hoped they were calcium enriched because they had this weird chalky vitamin aftertaste if he didn’t swallow them as soon as they hit his tongue. 

His wrist still ached and the scar was an ugly, bright pink, the stitching definitely hadn’t been done as carefully as it had when he’d accidentally stabbed himself under the chin after trying to open a package with a pair of scissors. He was eight, then. The scar was barely there, this one... this one was going to leave him in those douche-y European leather cuffs or long-sleeved shirts for the rest of his life if he didn’t want questions.

Levi heard some people got tattoos to cover scars. He didn’t see being able to afford that for a long time. 

The days went by without any real distinction at all, he felt like he’d been dozing since he was taken to the hospital and this was some half-remembered dream. He kept waiting to feel like he’d woken up, to feel life in his body again, to be able to think straight... and instead, he just felt foggy and dull. Better foggy, dull and alive.

That’s what he told himself over and over again. He went to work, he ate, he showered more often (tried to), and before he knew it, it was the night before Christmas Eve. 

Zoe Hanji was on the other end of the line again and Levi was in the kitchen, but this time, he was just thoughtfully holding a pickle spear inches from his mouth as he shivered. It was way too cold to be eating cold food, he thought idly, his fingertips numb, hoodie sleeves pushed up halfway his hands, but little else could fill the craving for salt that sometimes struck him like a bus. 

“So... let me buy? I mean, I’m only good for two drinks but I figure that getting out of the insane asylum-”

“Hospital.” Levi corrected dispassionately, abruptly. 

“Yeah, hospital! I figure that’s something worth celebrating. You’ll be a lightweight anyway, lucky you.”

“Mm,” he hummed around the bite of food thoughtfully. “Nope, sorry. I took my meds today, drinking’s out of the fucking question.” Shit, was it really that hard to remember? He wanted a fucking drink so badly, he would do... anything. Anything, he realized slowly. It was stupid, but desperation drove people to stupid things, and what was he if not human?

“How about on New Year’s?” He ventured so flatly Zoe had to take a second to decipher if it was a question or not. 

“New Year’s? It’s going to be crazy out there... you sure you don’t just want to come to my place or something?”

Levi paused and licked his fingers. “No, I want to go out. I never go out.”

“Okay. Alright, but... I’m kind of...” Zoe’s voice dropped slightly. “I don’t like crowds much. Would you hate me if I ducked out around ten-thirty? I know that’s... early. We could catch happy hour, though...! I think that would stretch my wallet a b-”

“Shut up, Zoe. Listen.” Dead silence. 

“It’s fine. I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to. You don’t have to explain. Just tell me you don’t want to and that’s enough. Get it?”

Zoe stammered, “A-alright.”

“Okay. I understand. That sounds like a good time.”

“It does? Really?”

“Yeah,” he said honestly. “Let’s meet at your place.”

 

 

 **************

 

Day three off of medication in preparation for New Year’s Eve drinking and Levi was feeling a little bit electric, like the fog was clearing a bit at the edges and he could feel the electricity in the air. Good sign, bad sign, he had a mission and he wasn’t about to abandon it because he was feeling more like a human fucking being.

Drinking with Hanji was quite like he expected: uncomfortable until the booze started flowing and then easy, much easier than it’d been in a long time. Levi was crass, Hanji matched him, they discussed everything from the hospital to favorite childhood television shows.

As Hanji requested, the session ended around the time the celebration started moving to the street and ramping up. Hanji caught a cab in what was sure to be a long ride back. Times Square was only a few stops away and Levi could understand why Hanji hadn’t wanted to be out past a certain point if they were nervous in crowds. The block was already surging where he was and it was a legitimate fucking battle to get packed into a car. 

Normally, he would’ve been all elbows, spit and abuse, but tonight, as a man about a foot taller than him pressed him up against one of the doors and a woman about his height avoided his face apologetically as she talked to her friend who was virtually spooning her as they stood there, he just felt relieved. Relieved and his fingers were numb. He’d forgotten his gloves.

It didn’t matter, they were one. Everyone was just this ‘mass’ and he felt energized by their energy and he smiled for no reason at all, watching the lights fly by him as they exited a tunnel. In the back of it, somewhere deep, he also heard a voice. 

A whisper.

_And now you’re alone. You think all the people in the world will save you from that?_

He looked around, his face falling just slightly. 

_This is how you’re bringing in the New Year. Getting lost to feel like you’re a part of something. Is that really what you want? Do you want to trick yourself like that?_

His heart quickened a bit and he wanted to grasp at his head, because it was getting away from him, but his greatest objective of all was not to look crazy. That was the most important thing, do _not_ look crazy. 

But he already did, he didn’t have any gloves on. Why didn’t he just put them on before leaving, was that so hard? Now he didn’t want to go at all, but they were at the stop and he was all but washed onto the platform by the eager wave of people behind him and he pulled off to the wall for a moment to stare at them, his fine features a bit twisted with sudden confusion and resentment.

Now he was just ruining the holidays again, no wonder his parents didn’t want him home. It would be less painful for them, he bet, to throw his funeral than his birthday and he really didn’t mean it in a manipulative or mocking way, he honestly felt as if it would take a burden off of them. They could properly grieve for the son they wish they’d had, everyone could remember him as being ‘taken from them’ rather than being the fucking world on their shoulders or the storm on their doorstep and it would be a great act of kindness on his part to...

His fingers were wrapped around his healing wrist and he looked to his right to see an older man looking him up and down, a little shake in his movements. Parkinson’s maybe. Didn’t mean his dick couldn’t get hard. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t be nice to Levi and make him feel wanted... Levi held his breath as he gave sultry eyes back to the man.

His stomach turned, he didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to fuck him, so why was he looking at him that way? 

_I want him to want me. I want to be wanted. I want to be better than someone for once, I want to be perfect for a night._  

But the image of his possibly decrepit apartment and this guy thinking to himself ‘I’ve still got it’ while Levi’s lips were wrapped around his cock and he was thinking only of himself, just like Levi would only be thinking of himself finally put him into motion. _False connection_. He tore himself away from where he stood and headed up the stairs, gripping the sticky-freezing railing for dear life as he was half-pushed above ground, into the night.

Levi emerged, gasping in the cold air as the bubble of people around him dissipated and though he knew, rationally, that this was the time to seek out a corner, to gather himself, he stepped into the fray.

Wasn’t that the point? Did he care if he got swept away or not? 

Wide-eyed and void of will, he allowed the incoming group seal him into the crowd. He wanted a reason, he wanted a reason to keep going, to be around people, to see them. Anyone, he thought, anyone could give him a fucking reason.

But so far, he was spectacularly alone, especially alone here. His fingers were numb and rigid with the cold, even as they slipped towards his pockets but never quite reached inside. The tip of his nose was red with the chill, his lips were dry and the lights reflected off his pale eyes in warm yellows, bright whites that made him squint. 

Joan Rivers took her place in front of the news camera and the crowd yipped like coyotes at a kill, they howled. 

Levi blinked slowly, still and silent, as he realized he didn’t feel a thing. He wasn’t even sure of who he was other than a cracking facsimile of a coping human being. 

The hospital wasn’t the place for him, but neither was his own body. 

 

 

**************

 

Erwin Smith had a pair of leather gloves with a thin fleece lining on the inside. They were sleek but effective against the elements, which he appreciated, in fact, he actually aspired to be more like those gloves. It was a strange thought, but Erwin wasn’t immune to strange thoughts, it was simply that he’d learned to keep them to himself as he grew older, schooled by the furrowed brows of his parents and cruel comments of his classmates.

The strange questions were often kept to himself. He learned better ones. 

“How is your wife?”

“May I have a coffee? No sugar, two creams, please.” 

“It’s getting cold, isn’t it?”

People often wondered what he was thinking, which he preferred to people knowing and being disappointed with what they found. Of course, he wasn’t quite... a people pleaser. Erwin Smith had not taken his father’s company as far as he had by playing safely, in fact, he was known to be something of a cowboy when it come to negotiations. He apologized, rather than asked permission, which had always infuriated his father and occasionally, business partners. But as it turned out, the company was thriving. People were investing left and right in Smith & Waters Co. stock. Their medical equipment was easily one of the most trusted brands nation-wide and it was said that Erwin was stepping under a gold-shitting goose when he inherited the company after his father had died. 

When he announced his plans to privately fund stem-cell research, the papers had gotten a hold of it rather quickly and his devout mother told him not to bother attending Christmas that year. He used to go upstate to their large estate, his childhood home, and see his mother on Christmas Eve and stay through the weekend. Widowed as she was, she was never alone on the holidays, it was a large affair and Erwin was simply another guest. Now he was...uninvited. 

Meanwhile, he was alternately being hailed as a hero or the Devil incarnate, depending on who was reporting. The Huffington Post called for a round of applause given to ‘perhaps the first true philanthropist-businessman of our generation’ while The Christian Post mourned ‘all the little souls that would suffer at this greedy, heartless murderer’s hands’ and condemned those that would praise his crimes. Erwin scrolled through the various accounts on his iPad every once in a while and left it at that.

He knew his father would tell him that he was going to burn in Hell for this, along with the rapists and the other murderers. But Erwin already knew he was hell-bound a long time prior to this... after all, he didn’t assume God was going to let him off the hook for fucking men and enjoying it. Erwin had to wonder how his parents managed to enjoy anything at all with such a micro-managing deity looking over their shoulders.

It seemed a hinderance. He looked good in a suit. He had the money to enjoy himself. His sheets were soft. Liquor relaxed him. It seemed such a waste to be put on this earth with so many pleasures only to be so frightened by what would happen after death. 

So what if they were right?

He’d deal with God personally, then. Right now, for as long as he had, he was going to enjoy himself. 

 _Poor Dad_ , he thought to himself as he poured a glass of Amaretto, looking out the window of his penthouse on Fifth Avenue. _You really could’ve used a drink._

Perhaps, then, he wouldn’t have died. Maybe his heart would have endured stress better. Who knew? 

He was a quiet man, a sensitive one, whom was so sensitive that he spoke to no one. Not even his son. Erwin knew he loved him deeply, but he simply didn’t know how to be loving, how to behave towards someone he cared for. Even Erwin’s mother seemed to interact with him through a layer of silk. She knew his shape, she could make him out, but she never knew the texture of his skin, his true nature. 

If he had been a girl, perhaps he would have never known his father, either. It seemed that the man held the notion that women were creatures who were best kept in the dark, like sleeping birds. The light of day could startle them, as could the truth. 

His mother was both protected from and grievously injured by the world around her, as the curtain fell away after his death and she encountered many thing she didn’t understand. Erwin planned never to tell her about his sexuality for that very reason...though he found it distasteful, he didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want to protect her either, but it felt a necessary thing. Now that he was uninvited to Christmas, though, it really didn’t seem to matter. 

In a fit of turmoil, he’d gone to a club after the impending loneliness the holidays would be closed in on him while he sat in his dining room with Christmas music wafting in from the intercom. He found himself sucking off a lovely little twink in one of the restroom stalls after he’d bought him a few drinks. It wasn’t safe. It was a stupid thing to do, but Erwin took risks sometimes. 

Maybe, he was courting death in his own way. After all, they all died somehow. Watching his father die, he became less afraid of the notion and more tired of the questions he was forced to ask. 

“So, what’re your plans for New Years?”

He didn’t care. He wanted to ask if they believed in God, if their children did things they didn’t approve of, if they still loved them. He wanted to ask if they would care that he was gay. He wanted to ask if his ass looked nice in his suit, or what they would do if they only had three days to live. 

He wanted to know people, he wanted to know their hearts... but no one offered up their hearts. Everyone just shook hands. 

Well, Christmas was out. The town was closed down. He spent it watching movies, so drunk he barely made it to the bathroom to piss. He jerked off twice and went to sleep by four AM, tired but unsatisfied, unsettled with the time he’d spent awake. He didn’t usually stay up so late, especially without a special event that would prompt him to, but it was quality over quantity. It was a total waste of time and though he kept trying to find some hidden enjoyment in his solitude, there was none.

That was what made him resolve to spend New Year’s out, among people. 

Times Square, even. It was an insane notion, he knew what the turnout would be like, but it would be a good way to ring in the new year. The only ones who would recognize him would be the eggheads that actually read the business section of the paper (though he had made Yahoo news homepage a few times) and he doubted that anyone would be focused on him at an event like that, in any case. 

So, he found himself with reading glasses on, taking a cab as far as it would go before he grew tired of waiting, paid his fare and walked the rest of the way. He had lost count of how many blocks he’d walked, but finally, the crowd grew thicker, the noise was at a steady hum and the speakers swallowed it all. Music ricocheted off the sides of the buildings and Erwin allowed himself to be assimilated into the mass by the nearly sentient mob that drew him in and pushed him forward all at once. _No going back now_ , he thought with a smirk. He wandered a little further in, until he literally could not inch a toe forward.

Being a little taller than most of the attendees, he could make out the media moguls here and there, an actor, a singer, but he quickly grew bored of star-spotting and decided to survey the faces around him. 

 

 

**************

 

There was an older man holding a little girl on his shoulders, probably her grandfather... a couple cuddling next to him (looked like a frat boy and his equally preppy girlfriend, boring), and then there was the man who was standing slightly in front of him, but enough to the side that he could make out his profile. He wasn’t dressed for the weather and his fingers were twisted into odd shapes. He looked beyond tense. Cold, as well, he seemed freezing, but his eyes were distracted. 

They were looking at the lights and there was... so much hope in them, it seemed like he would overflow. They were shining, his mouth was open slightly, as if in a trance. Erwin found himself thinking that he was... extremely beautiful. Not sexy, not handsome, but exquisite. Delicate, despite the blunt angles of his black hair. Just beautiful to look at, his coloring, the way he wore his stature...he wanted to hear him speak. He wanted to kiss him. Actually, he wanted to do a lot more than that, he wanted to fuck him and see how those lips formed sounds of pleasure, he wanted to feel this boy’s teeth sinking into his skin, he wanted to know what his teeth _looked_ like. He wanted to see the difference in the shades of their skin. He wanted to know his name. That was the place to start, wasn’t it? Fuck, he didn’t even know if he was into men, but Erwin didn’t like to defeat himself before he’d even tried. 

So, he leaned forward just slightly and down a little, raising his voice to a near-shout so he could be heard. “You seem cold,” he barked next to Levi’s head. Really sexy, he thought with a self-deprecating smirk, but managed to keep it on his lips. 

Levi jumped and turned to look at Erwin. Erwin gasped a little when he met his eyes. How could he be so stupid? That wasn’t hope reflecting in the lights, it was fear. It was pain. The boy was nearly crying with pain and he’d just been thinking about how to get him home. 

Still, he wanted to take him home. But he wanted to ask him what was wrong, first. Of course, he’d never get him home like that.

Erwin was surprised by the things he thought of. How graceful he probably was, how effective a killer he could be with that angelic sharpness about his features (an angel of vengeance, no doubt), the way he seemed like he needed help. Erwin’s help, in particular. He’d never felt this before and even more curious was the imagery of the stranger that flooded his thoughts in flashes, how wonderful a color green would look on him, the strength beneath that fear, that haircut worn with clothes that would suit its militaristic shape, those eyes full of trust. And the way he trusted him as well. 

Meanwhile, Levi’s mouth fell open and he grasped for words, as if he’d just been shocked by an electrical current. That’s exactly how he felt, the same shock he got when he shuffled his socks against the carpet and touched hands with someone, but amplified. Maybe just below sticking a fork in a wall socket. 

He looked at the blond man, nearly a foot taller than him, his thick eyebrows, ice-blue eyes and his breath stuck in his chest. He was nice to look at, sure, but that wasn’t what struck him. He thought of a world... another world. A place where they relied on each other in the sense of life and death. A place where he was a warrior, where he answered only to this man, a place where he strove to live, because dying was not peaceful there. Living was the truest freedom in the world. It was a place after humans ceased to control the earth and the elements turned against them. It was a place where he was weightless, effortlessly cutting through the air... but it wasn’t that fantastical. No wings, nothing like that. He had images of blood on his hands, across his face, on his wrist... he pulled his hand back like he was burned after he’d grabbed Erwin’s coat in surprise, grabbing at his wrist. There was so much blood. 

_Disgusting._

He didn’t know what he’d just seen, he didn’t want to think about it ( _the faces, the horrible fucking faces of those things, those... monsters, whatever they were, they looked like humans but twisted, their teeth, their bodies, goddamn it, he didn’t want to dream tonight, he didn’t want to sleep with this in his head and his heart quickened, he felt pursued by these childish fears of a boogeyman he’d invented_ ) and he had no idea what this stranger had asked. 

“... What?” He shouted, suddenly defensive, his lip curled. “I’m fine! I’m fucking great! Mind your own business...” He was interrupted by a sudden roar from the crowd and the music swelling to deafening decibels. Levi and Erwin’s head sboth turned as the countdown started.

“Seven!”

“Six!”

Levi’s throat went tight and his eyes burned. He was losing it again. This time, worse than before. He’d just lose it over and over again, wouldn’t he? That’s what being crazy meant and now, this stranger was involved in his fantasies, he felt as if he owed him his _life_ and as if they would know each other forever, but that was just rich, wasn’t it? 

It was insane, it was absolutely insane in a way he hadn’t expected himself to reach, not yet. Fantasies about strangers. Images of things he’d never seen before, things he had no reason...

“Four!”

“Three!”

He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to plan lives with attractive strangers in a crowd, he didn’t want to be heartbroken when they went home, he didn’t want to go home alone, he didn’t want to be here anymore. He hated this world. He hated how boring it was, his job... he hated the purposelessness of it all and on top of that, he was now a certified, hallucinating goddamn lunatic because he felt like he’d seen this guy before and it wasn’t even in this _universe_. A break with reality. Sign of the times. That was the last straw, he thought.

“One!”

People kissed, screamed, threw their hats up and whistles cut through the incredible cacophony somehow, just setting his teeth on edge further. The music started.

Levi was scared. His heart thudded painfully and he grasped his chest, hot tears spilling down his cheeks. The ball dropped and he covered his lips with his frigid fingers, feeling them twist into ugly shapes, his eyes shut tightly so he couldn’t see who might be watching him. He didn’t care. He didn’t fucking care.

Erwin didn’t fucking care about the ball dropping either. His eyes were fixed on Levi, the scar peeking out from his shirt sleeve, the way his face crumpled and the tip of his nose seemed to get redder as his shoulders shook. It was painful to watch. He wanted to wrap him up immediately with his coat, he wanted to take him inside of it to a warm place, a dark place, a place without the pain that threatened to destroy him. 

Levi cried openly, terrified of a new year. Another year. There was nothing he could do about it, it was only the beginning. He wanted to die, he thought. _I want to die, I really want to die, I’m sorry,_ he repeated in his mind. _I don’t think I’ll make it this year._

He saw everything so clearly now, now he was out of the medicated haze, he saw the misery of the next year, the disappointments, the connections he wouldn’t make, the loneliness, the back-breaking work. He saw it all as clearly as he saw... those things. Those bloodied, childlike, twisted monsters. 

Erwin couldn’t stand it any longer. Levi could cry, but he would not stand there and cry by himself, he wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t walk away. He had to do something. Erwin could throw money at life-saving research and go have a drink, he could smoke a cigarette on a crisp afternoon while he bought stocks that would raise their worth as a company by at least five percent on his phone, but he could not walk away from this. There was nothing to do but wait. To give his time, attention, there was nothing he knew how to give Levi to help him, but he would find out. 

He stepped closer and slipped his gloves off covertly, pausing before he leaned forward again. “You’re cold.”

Levi sobbed and laughed at the absurdity of it before he snarled, “Fuck off.” He didn’t mean it, he thought, his back curling further. Why was he so mean? Why was he so mean to a guy that was just trying to help him out?

_You don’t want help, you want to be left alone so you can do what you have to. He won’t want you to die. No one does, they all want you to keep living in pain._

So, that was why. He gulped, wiping his nose on the back of his hand and looking up for a moment.

The blond was still standing there with the gloves. 

“Can’t you see I’m fucking... I’m... going to get snot on them,” Levi explained, figuring that a rich bastard like this would probably be persuaded by that, if nothing else.

The blue eyes remained on him, almost frightening in their intensity, Levi had no idea what he was thinking. 

“What’s your name?”

It was a question like two kids asked one another. It was that open kind of question that adults would blush at, they would find out some other way, a business card, a friend, they would introduce themselves in definitive tones with handshakes. Erwin was standing there, all six-foot-two of him, holding a pair of gloves out to him and asking his name... like he honestly wanted to know. 

Levi couldn’t not answer. “Levi.”

“Levi, take the gloves. I’ve got another pair at home,” he lied. “I can get these washed. You’ll freeze, though, your fingers are wet.”

Levi blushed deeply in embarrassment and turned away. He wished he could run, but he couldn’t, not with the solid wall of people around them both. 

Erwin put his hand on Levi’s shoulder and he calmed for a moment, just long enough to hear a soft, “Please.” His hand shook a little as he reached for the gloves and pulled them on gracelessly, sticking his hands beneath his arms to generate some warmth for himself. 

Levi turned reddened eyes towards Erwin, his brow furrowed in suspicion, confusion, annoyance. All of those things. Yet, he... he thought Erwin was gorgeous. He was the only thing standing between him and a date with a bottle of pills at home, but he didn’t know that, did he? It seemed that though he wanted to express gratitude, interest, it wasn’t in his vocabulary. He willed himself to show Erwin somehow, to show him some signs so he didn’t drop Levi like a hot rock and never speak to him again, but a scowl seemed to be fixed on his face. He couldn’t stop growling and snapping at people. It was his fault, it was completely his fault, but he had no idea _how_ to do anything differently. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled. Erwin could barely make it out and could tell he was horribly ashamed for accepting, so he didn’t mention it further. 

“I’ll write my phone number down so I can pick them up when you’re finished with them. But before I do that... would you like to get some coffee? I was thinking of getting a cab, going somewhere quieter... a cup of coffee sounds like a good way to see in 2014, doesn’t it? Something good. Enjoyable. Comfortable. I don’t know if you like greasy spoon diners. I don’t, personally, but that’s the only place open at this hour.”

Levi stared at him with red-rimmed eyes, wondering if he was a saint or a serial killer. But what did it really matter? If he went home, he’d definitely fucking snuff it. At least this was a chance. But he didn’t know how long Erwin would actually want to talk to him, he wasn’t exactly confident in his abilities to keep conversation appropriate or light. Oh well, at least he could have the gloves and a ride across town. 

“Okay. Somewhere cheap?” He asked in a ravaged tone, sniffling a bit and wiping his nose on his forearm, trying to make a show of avoiding the gloves. 

Diners weren’t cheap? Erwin considered this for a few moments, but nodded. Levi was an odd boy. That was good. That boded well, because Erwin didn’t know how long he could avoid the questions he really wanted to ask or the fact that when they’d touched, he saw something he’d never seen before. Walls. Not figurative, well, maybe figurative but made material, like a dream. Walls. An earth without the influence of a human population. Woods. Woods with... large, large shadows in them. And of course, Levi, whom he felt he had known for his entire life and would know for the rest of it. Levi, even more beautiful than he was now. 

But he wouldn’t mention that. He supposed all people thought about random things, had imagery strike them, inspire them, certainly artists must have. But the thing that separated the insane from the rest of them, he guessed, was the willingness to admit it. 

“Yes, but I was going to offer to pay. If you were hungry, I’d... take care of that, too. Don’t worry, in any case.”

Levi wanted to laugh in his face, was this some kind of weirdo date? Right now? While he was losing it in public? Was the guy high?

But he just nodded. 

Erwin wordlessly took his hand, his left one and his naked fingers slid up to Levi’s wrist, which he instinctively yanked away. Erwin didn’t let go and Levi started to wonder if he really had gotten himself involved with a dangerous nut-job.

Instead, as they wove out of the heart of the madness, Levi could hear him better. 

“Why did you do that to yourself?”

Levi’s eyes widened and he searched for something to say, he felt guilty, sick, angry, he wanted to tell Erwin to take his fucking gloves and play in traffic. No, he actually didn’t want to say that. What did he want? 

He was so tired. He didn’t know what he wanted. 

“I was depressed. I thought... I...” Levi’s voice dropped to a whisper and he trailed off, looking away, his cheeks burning but relaxing in Erwin’s hold, the blond’s hand trailing back down to hold Levi’s hand in his own. 

“You were suicidal.”

“Yeah.”

Erwin nodded and Levi wondered if he was suicidal too. He didn’t seem the type, but... you could never tell. But he had a hell of a poker face and all of the squinting and glancing in the world wasn’t giving him jack shit when it came to reading that expression. 

“It’s okay to talk about it. I don’t mind, Levi. You shouldn’t be embarrassed, either. I think it’s... understandable. And even if it doesn’t make sense, it’s not as if you can help feeling depressed, right?” 

Levi almost tripped on a crack in the street, because he was so focused on the man next to him, whom was focused straight ahead, that same placid look on his refined features the entire time he spoke. 

His grip on Levi tightened a little and his other hand went to Levi’s chest to keep him upright. Erwin looked Levi in the eyes. 

“But I’d really, really rather you not kill yourself. You’re very beautiful and I want to talk to you more.” Then he smiled and Levi felt warm, from the tip of his nose to his fingertips and he smiled back, just a flash of teeth and then looked down, not bothering to pull away. 

“Wow. You’re forward. Kinda creepy.”

Erwin’s smile widened and he let his hand fall from Levi’s chest and continued once Levi was ready. “So I’ve been told.” Nothing in his tone changed, but he looked away, into his... ‘avoiding space’, Levi would venture to guess. 

“It’s okay. I’m crazy. I was in a fucking mental hospital. I guess that makes me creepy too.”

Erwin looked back at him, grinning. “I think they’re different, actually. But I’ve always wondered what it was like to be crazy.”

“I’ll tell you. It’s... weird. I guess. I don’t know where to start.”

“It’s okay, I ask a lot of questions. You know, I feel like we’ve met, somehow. It’s like deja vu, but...”

Levi felt his throat tighten again, but this time, it was in relief. His heart almost squeezed painfully. This was real. This was fucking _real_.

“No. Deja vu is when it feels like you do something over again. It’s destiny. It’s supposed to happen.”

Erwin nodded, sighing as something clicked into place in his mind. “Yes. Yes, that’s exactly it.”

A few moments of silence passed between them and Erwin was finally able to hail down a cab. Meeting Levi felt like both, actually.

As he opened the door and Levi slipped past him to get inside, he asked, “So... is this a date?”

Levi’s rough chuckle sounded from inside the cab and he poked his head out. “What the fuck do you think, shit-for-brains? Yeah, it is.”

With that, Erwin slipped into the taxi as well and closed the door on the sounds of the last strains of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” playing.

_“And a happy new year!”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you! Comments, etc. are much loved and appreciated.


End file.
